Phantoms In Philadelphia (4 page)

My fear was threatening to break me, but I shoved it
away as I had many times during the war. Bess knew that we only had
one chance, for she pulled her knees up as high as she could. I
growled as I charged beneath Bess and struck the giant a solid blow
to the groin. As I jumped back, he cursed, releasing Bess and
clutching himself. Bess landed on her knees.

While the giant was bent over in pain, I threw my
fist against his throat, not hard enough to kill him, but enough
that he would not be able to speak for some time. He started making
choking noises, but my attention was on Bess. She was trying to
inhale as much air as she could, but it was coming in gasps.

A gold bag was tied to the giant’s waist, so I
pulled it, tearing the strings. I grabbed Bess by her collar and
pulled her to her feet. With my hand against her back, we stumbled
toward the front door. I wrenched the door open, and Bess was about
to run, but I grabbed her shoulder.

Riding toward the house was a group of rough looking
men, but it was a woman in the center of the group that gave me
pause. She was dressed all in white with a white hood pulled over
her hair and white lace mask over her eyes.

We stood there only seconds before I slammed the
door shut, throwing the bolt. Any person riding in the middle of a
group of rough men and wearing a mask in the middle of the day was
either a Phantom or up to no good.

As Bess ran toward the back door, I grabbed her
pistol from the floor and followed her as if the devil was on my
heels. It was not fear that drove me from the house, but self
preservation.

Bess flew through the back door, landing on the
grass in a half-crouched position. I came through the door behind
her, slamming it shut, but not before we heard shouts and the front
door burst open. We split up, Bess entering the house directly
behind the giant’s, while I ran down the lane to my horse. I could
only hope that she could get away, but she would not thank me for
dwelling on her safety instead of escaping with the box.

I rode off down the road at a near gallop. I tried
to avoid the busiest streets, but as I turned onto Pennsylvania
Avenue it was rough going as I had to dodge carts, other riders,
people walking, and carriages, but Brutus made it through without
incident.

Once the city streets were behind me, and I was
safely off the road, I pulled up and opened the bag.

There was a box inside, but it was round, not what
Bess had described. A clever foe, the giant. Horse’s hooves coming
toward me at a clipping speed, drew my gaze.

“Thunder an’ turf,” I exploded
as
I snapped the reins of my horse,
allowing Brutus to gallop.

The woman in white was pursuing me. She looked to be
alone, but it was a gun in her hand that set me searching for a
place to hide and take her unaware.

I rode into the woods determined to lead her on a
merry chase. My heart was beating in quick, perfect rhythm with
Brutus’ hoofs against the ground. There was a clearing ahead that
would present the perfect opportunity for her to have a clear shot
at me.

Only one thing to be done…give her what she wanted.
Part way across the clearing, I tossed the gold bag in the air
behind me and rode on into the cover of the trees.

When I did not hear her pursuing me, I pulled Brutus
up and turned him. At the tree line, I watched as the woman in
white had one foot in her stirrup and the other hanging free as she
lowered herself, her horse seeming to know that she wanted it to
move toward the bag. When she was close, she held on with one hand
to her saddle while the other hand scooped up the bag. I was
impressed, and a smile turned up my lips when she reseated herself.
It faded when she started to move back the way we had come.

Impressed, amazed, intrigued, and not ready to let
her go yet caused me to make a rash decision. I pulled my pistol
from its holster and fired one shot above her head. She ducked
against her horse’s mane, and I opened my mouth, releasing a shrill
laugh high above my own voice; the laugh of a Phantom and one which
I had cultivated after my sister assured me that it would set
anyone’s teeth to chattering and nerves to fraying.

The woman in white looked in my direction. I waved.
Even from the distance that separated us I could feel her anger. It
made me chuckle. She turned her horse, and they shot across the
field toward me.

My surprise had held me still for a moment before I
moved Brutus into action. I turned him to move through the trees. I
knew the area well, so I knew exactly where I wanted to lead her.
We rode through the trees until I saw another clearing ahead. The
only sounds were made by our horses as they snapped twigs, rustled
leaves, and pounded across the earth. I pushed Brutus faster,
allowing him to gallop through the tree line and out to where a
pond took up much of the open meadow.

A gun fired from behind me, and pain seared across
my arm as Brutus veered to the right. Thank the Heavens my horse
was accustomed to hearing guns fire, and knew how to react. I
glanced at my sleeve. Annoyance bounced through me like taking a
ride across an uneven road. It was only a graze, but it infuriated
me. I rode to the far tree line and turned Brutus when I did not
hear her pursuing me. She had halted and was watching me from
across the field.

For a moment, we stared at each other, much as two
enemy forces stared at each other across the battlefield. She
kicked her horse into moving and started toward me. Her white hood
flew off, black hair bouncing on the wind. Brutus charged toward
her. She wanted to play; then we would play.

Our horses headed straight for each other and
exhilaration filled me. Bess would have called it recklessness to
be playing with the woman, but she would not fault me for refusing
to veer away. She would say: If you must insist upon challenging
every foe you meet, always be the first upon the battlefield and
the last to walk away.

We were within a yard of each other when the hair on
the back of my neck stood up, but the warning came too late. A
flash of silver met my eyes a moment before she raised her hand and
threw a knife at me. I leaned, misjudged my own jerky movements, my
boot slipped from the stirrup and my gloves lost their hold on the
reins.

My back hit the water first then I was submerged in
the murky darkness of the pond. I came up gasping for air before
running a hand over my mask and face. My hat was floating on the
water beside me. I looked around until I saw her at the tree line,
smiling; then she let out a shrill laugh mocking me. I had never
wanted to capture someone more that I did at that moment.

She pressed a hand to her lips, released it in my
direction, and disappeared through the trees. I grabbed my hat in
one giant splash of annoyance and trudged through the water, my
boots sticking to the muddy bottom. When I was finally free from
the pond, I whistled for Brutus. He came toward me as I picked up
the knife she had thrown at me. It was sturdy with an ivory handle.
There was a star painted on the handle, but nothing else.

After mounting Brutus, I decided to return to the
city to find Bess; for there was no reason to pursue the woman in
white. She did not have the black box, and I doubted she would be
getting it from the giant. He struck me as someone who worked
alone.

I decided to leave my mask on, since many people
surely saw me galloping out of the city, and I did not want them to
see my face if they should recognize my horse. I rode to where
Bess’s horse had been left. It was gone, giving me hope that she
had made it safely to the tree. I left Brutus at the stable where
we kept our horses; a stable ran by the Washington Phantoms, then I
made my way across the three roads to where our house was
located.

As I entered through the back door, I removed my
muddy boots with the bootjack then hurried to the parlor. As I
rounded the corner, I stopped. All of my team was there with Bess,
who was seated on the sofa. There was a cloth around her throat,
and Leo was kneeling before her, but it was the man standing behind
her with his hands resting on the back of the sofa that drew my
attention.

“Frederick. What are you doing here?”

Frederick smiled at me, creating a desire in me to
rearrange his teeth, but that was always my first impulse where he
was concerned. I pushed my annoyance away as I advanced into the
room holding out my hand. Frederick moved around the sofa to greet
me.

Frederick Nolan was the leader of the Washington
Phantoms; a wealthy dandy who thought himself far above the rest of
us. When my father formed the Phantoms, my father led the
Philadelphia team, while one of the other founders, a soldier, led
the Washington team. When they died, Frederick and Bess took their
places, though no one outside the Phantoms and my mother knew that
Bess was the leader. Anyone who heard of us, which were not many,
thought I, Loutaire, was the leader, a ruse that Bess had insisted
upon.

“Greetings, Jack. I would ask how you fared, but I
can see from your attire, not well.”

Ignoring the bait, I replied, “You have yet to say
what you are doing here.”

“Freddy was kind enough to bring me home,” Bess
rasped out causing me to take a good look at her.

Bess was a naturally beautiful woman, even though
she spent more time in breeches than she did in petticoats. Her
oval face, if a little too brown from the sun, was smooth as fine
silk. Her shoulder length, brown hair was hanging limply, and her
brown eyes were tired. She had our father’s coloring, but where she
saw that as a disadvantage, I saw it as a blessing. She had both
height and beauty. She was not considered inconsequential due to
her height the way I was for my lack of inches.

Other than the cloth that covered her injured neck,
she did not look like much was wrong with her. Until she spoke. She
should not have been talking. I was about to say as much, as was
Leo, when Frederick spoke.

“You should not be speaking, dear Bess.” He picked
up her hand, holding it between his two. I could barely see him
through the haze that was my annoyance.

I stepped between them, forcing him to drop her
hand. I sat beside her on the sofa staring up at him with my arms
crossed over my still damp chest. “What do you want, Frederick?” My
tone said that I would accept none of his usual babble. I wanted
him to state his business and depart.

It was not that I did not like
Frederick, for I liked most people, but I detested the way he acted
around the deputies of the Phantoms. Frederick may be the team
leader of the Washington Phantoms, but he had lost many good men
through his carelessness—not a good trait for a spy leader—that,
and he was fond of my sister. Frederick had a reputation with
women, and I would not allow him to add Bess to the list of his
conquests.

“I see your manners have not improved, Loutaire,”
Frederick said as he seated himself in a chair across from the
sofa.

Leo propped himself against the wall, watching the
banter between me and Frederick.

“I save my manners for the women,”
my lips twitched, “a
trait we have in
common.”

Frederick’s top lip curled. I could tell that he was
not amused. It added to my own amusement.

“How did you happen upon my sister?” I looked from
him to Bess. She stared down at her folded hands.

She must have sensed my eyes on her for she
whispered, “Freddy caught me as I was making my escape from the
giant. He was in the house of,” she paused, looking at Frederick,
“a beautiful woman. He escorted me here.”

“One of my men retrieved her horse. What were you
thinking, Loutaire, to allow your sister in the presence of that
brute?” Frederick’s words were dripping with disdain.

Bess stiffened beside me, as did the rest of our
team. I could feel their anger growing thick in the room. Frederick
was one of the few people who hated that a female was the leader of
our group.

“As Raven is the leader of this
team,
she
makes
the decisions,” I replied coolly.

Frederick smiled, but his eyes were burning with
annoyance.

Bess touched my arm, her way of begging me to stop
goading Frederick. I bit the inside of my lip to keep from
laughing. Calling him Frederick, when everyone else called him
Freddy, was another way that I baited him. In truth, even though we
relentlessly taunted each other, we were Phantoms, and there was a
bond there that refused to break.

“Whose house was it?” I asked. Bess stiffened
immediately. When I glanced at her, there was a hint of a blush in
her cheeks.

“A friend,” Frederick replied, but I had understood.
It was the house of one of his fancy pieces. Women flocked around
him wherever he went. It was said that he had lady friends
scattered about the city. “We move away from the point. My sources
say that George was taken hostage last week, but he is still in the
vicinity of Philadelphia, which means,” Frederick paused to look at
Bess, “that you and your team should go home.”

Bess sighed beside me, her relief great. Frederick’s
face hardened for a brief moment as he looked away from her.

During the war, Bess worked with Frederick’s team in
Baltimore, and they had formed a friendship, one that Frederick
thought was more. Thankfully, Bess did not. I could never stomach
Frederick as a brother.

“What of the giant?” Levi asked from his post behind
the sofa.

“My men went to his house, but it appears that he
has run.”

“Then there is nothing left for us. We will depart
immediately,” Bess whispered.

As Frederick stood; I helped Bess to her feet.

“I will leave you.” He held out his hand to me, and
I shook it. “Let us hope that our paths do not cross again for some
time to come.”